


Refuge

by lazaefair



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2019-09-25 05:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17115194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazaefair/pseuds/lazaefair
Summary: And finally, it’s worth it forthis:Setting the tent up under a living canopy of stars, stretched over them horizon-to-horizon in an unfathomably vast jeweled bowl, each twinkling light so bright as to put tears in Goody’s eyes and awed reverence in Billy’s, while Red looks at them both and quietly commits their starlit profiles to memory. Piling all their sleeping bags onto an air mattress (a concession to Red’s spine and Goody’s knees) and piling themselves on immediately after in a tangled mess of bodies and limbs, a newly revealed tableau of skin with each discarded item of clothing, soft touches quickly turning into caresses with intent.Three men in a tent in a wildlife refuge in Oklahoma. That's it. That's the fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kennel_Boy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kennel_Boy/gifts).



> Written for the prompt "Red & Goodnight, Billy Rocks" on the [Pillowfort 3-sentence challenge](https://www.pillowfort.io/community/Mag7/discussion/143937?page=2&comment=141834).

A full day of work at Rose Creek Foundation, then a four-hour evening flight from SFO to OKC with a 30-minute layover in Denver in the middle, white-knuckled on Goody’s part because whatever experimental shit they did to him in the army means Ambien won’t work on him anymore and militantly serene on Billy’s part because he has to stay calm for Goody. An exhausted night in the airport hotel. In the morning, an extra hour eaten up by a mix-up at the rental car agency, murderously irritated on Billy’s part because he loathes incompetence-induced delays and patiently charming on Goody’s part because he has to keep Billy from killing anyone. Then a two-hour drive out to the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge through some of the brownest, flattest, most boring landscape ever inflicted on anyone unwise enough to take a road trip through Oklahoma.

It’s still worth it. Worth it to meet up with Red Harvest in the visitor center parking lot, dressed in hiking gear that has no business looking that good on a real life human being, every curve and dip of his muscular form outlined in golden spring sunlight. Worth it to be greeted by the tiniest, smuggest quirk in the corner of Red’s solemn mouth - and the _ten_ camping permits lined up between the windshield and dash of his Jeep. “Just making sure nobody’s camping out there this weekend but us,” he says, irresistibly sly until Billy spoils the effect by striding up to him, grabbing the front of his shirt, and crashing their mouths together with a jerk of his hand. 

“All by our sweet selves, huh?” Goody says, smiling even as his eyes flick over the rows of cars, absently monitoring for witnesses. Red throws him a grateful look after Billy lets him up.

“Friend of mine runs the park office.” Red shrugs. “She owes me a couple favors.”

“Cool,” Billy says, then looks at Goody and jerks his head towards Red. “Your turn.”

“Awfully generous of you, mon amour, I’m positively overwhelmed,” Goody drawls, but he comes willingly when Red rolls his eyes and reaches for him. 

Yeah. It’s definitely worth it when they finally head out for a day of hiking through stunning vistas, surrounded by blissful traffic-less silence. Gradually sloughing off the accumulated stress of their daily cares through the honest exertion of scrambling over rocks on winding trails, marveling at waterfalls and splashing through creeks while Red tells them about the years he spent camping in the park as a teenager. Relishing the clean burn of muscles they haven’t used in too long. 

“Feels like I can finally breathe,” Billy says at the summit of Twin Rocks Mountain, shading his eyes as he looks out over the plain. 

Goody comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Billy’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. “Know exactly what you mean, darlin’.”

Billy leans back into him, listening to nothing but the soughing of wind through grass, letting their stark surroundings anchor his mind in their majestic, stony weight. They stand there together, enfolded in quiet, until Red comes back over from whatever rock formation he’d been exploring and touches Goody gently on the shoulder. “Lunch,” is all he says, though he can’t help grinning at the identical dreamy-eyed expressions they turn on him.

“Hey, Red,” Billy says.

“Thank you,” Goody says.

“Lunch,” Red repeats, shaking his head, but he reaches out to link his fingers to Goody’s, tugging to get them to move towards the shaded spot he’d found with the incredible view. 

And finally, it’s worth it for _this:_

Setting the tent up under a living canopy of stars, stretched over them horizon-to-horizon in an unfathomably vast jeweled bowl, each twinkling light so bright as to put tears in Goody’s eyes and awed reverence in Billy’s, while Red looks at them both and quietly commits their starlit profiles to memory. Piling all their sleeping bags onto an air mattress (a concession to Red’s spine and Goody’s knees) and piling themselves on immediately after in a tangled mess of bodies and limbs, a newly revealed tableau of skin with each discarded item of clothing, soft touches quickly turning into caresses with intent. 

Red lying on his back, cradling Billy between his spread legs, his head thrown back and teeth clenched as Billy stretches him with two fingers, then three, then his cock. If Billy is somewhat less steady and careful than is his wont, well, Red doesn’t blame him for being distracted by Goody kneeling behind Billy, already buried to the hilt inside _him_. “Yeah, fuck, come on,” Red grinds out, cupping the back of Billy’s head as he slides deep, so deep into Red’s body, Goody shifting forward with him, all three of them trembling with finely-controlled tension. 

When Billy’s finally in as far as he can go, he drops his head to Red’s shoulder, panting in harsh gulps. And when Red flexes his pelvic muscles, squeezing experimentally, the groan that tears out of Billy’s throat sounds nearly primordial, like something rising from the earth, out of the wilderness surrounding them. Red laughs a little, breathless. “Don’t think I ever heard you make a noise like that, damn, Billy.” 

_“Fuck,”_ Billy says, heartfelt, making Red laugh some more.

“Goddamn, I wish you two could see yourselves,” Goody says. “Jesus _wept,”_ the prayerful rasp in his voice turning blasphemy into worship. He leans down to press a kiss to the back of the hand Red still has on Billy’s neck, and begins to move.

He pulls out slowly and sinks in even more slowly at first - feeling it out, testing angles, working with Red to find the best way to drive the most self-possessed man they’ve both ever met clean out of his mind with sensory overload. Billy doesn’t give control up so easily, is the thing, instinctively trying to rock back onto Goody or into Red, complicating their rhythm. Until Goody catches Red’s eye - asking for permission - and then drops his weight down on Billy, pressing him into Red. For his part, Red wraps his arms around Billy’s upper back, catching Billy around the waist with his knees and holding him still. 

Billy writhes once, testing their resolve, and Red clicks his tongue disapprovingly even as a pulse of pleasure flashes through him from the friction of Billy rubbing against his cock. He’s got both their weights on top of him now, but it isn’t unpleasant and he knows he can take it, at least for a little while. “You promised to be good,” he growls into Billy’s ear. 

Now it’s Billy’s turn to laugh. “I said I’d _try,”_ he starts to say, then promptly buries his face in Red’s neck with a gasp as Goody pulls out and thrusts back in hard enough to rock them all together. And again, and again, a slow hammering that just about empties Red’s mind of anything else. God, fuck, Billy is so fucking hard and heavy inside him, stretching him wide open and pressed maddeningly all along his nerve endings, sending shivering sparks up his spine with every shift and slide even if Billy can’t actually move much, captured as he is between the two of them. Red moans through his teeth and tightens his arms, holding on with determination as Billy pushes mindlessly against Red’s grip, shoulders tensing up, skin growing slippery with sweat.

“Gonna have to try harder than that, cher,” Goody says, all gone to gravel as he pushes in again, gritting his teeth against the sheer heat of Billy, the unbelievable grip of his body. The, frankly, ecstatic sight of the long line of his graceful back flexing and shifting with each stroke, golden skin contrasting with Red’s rich bronze, the two of them a living tapestry lit by lantern-light. He’d write poetry about it if he had two brain cells left to rub together, if he wasn’t busy being short-circuited by the fact that he can feel Billy starting to _shake_ underneath him. Coming undone, god _damn._

He lifts himself up eventually, giving Red a break from supporting their weights and himself the leverage to plant his knees on the mattress and really go for it. Like he’s starving for the sound of Billy’s keen, for the sight of Red’s eyelashes fluttering each time he bottoms out. After a while he puts his hands on Billy’s hips, gripping hard enough to bruise as he moves Billy’s body in time with his thrusts. Which is when Red hisses out a startled, “Fuck, _yeah,”_ and throws his head back, arching up under them both as Billy’s cock starts to slide in and out of him. Then he grins, wild even as he gasps for uneven breaths, and lord, ain’t that a sight to warm a man’s heart.

 _“Goody,”_ Billy moans, high and broken, and not a moment too soon.

“Go on, cher, come for us. Give it to us, don’t be shy,” Goody croons, angling his thrusts down a little more and clinging desperately to the fraying edges of his control, through the fucking pressure and warmth and friction, the tell-tale pulsing beginning deep inside Billy.

Surrounded on all sides - held down and forced open on Goody’s cock - his own cock sheathed in Red’s burning heat - Billy unravels faster than he ever has in his entire life. Control, the one thing he prides himself on above everything else, is a laughable fantasy. He’s distantly aware that he’s gone rigid, unable to move except where Red and Goody move him - every sense he has centered on the white-hot coiling pleasure in his lower pelvis, radiating fire through every limb, the oncoming rush of orgasm filling his head with screaming static.

“Don’t stop,” he moans, begs, commands. “Don’t—”

“We won’t,” Red promises. “We got you. Let go. Let go, little one,” and he catches Billy’s head in his hands, crushes their mouths together. Curls his hips up even higher so Billy slides in balls-deep, and squeezes hard. Goody thrusts in at the same time, striking his prostate with the ease of long practice.

Billy stops breathing.

Floats in the darkness behind his eyelids for an endless, perfect moment, ripped out of time and thought. 

And then he falls headlong over the edge. 

Red wraps his arms around his shoulders, swallows his howl, anchors Billy to himself as Billy convulses, hips slamming into Red’s ass as he comes in long, shuddering, frenzied waves. Eventually he rips his mouth away and buries his face in Red’s neck again, and Red holds him tight and takes it - takes the pulses of heat flooding inside him, takes the helpless spasms against his body, takes the pained groans stifled against his skin. The sweat and tears he can feel dampening his neck and hair.

Teeth flash in Red’s peripheral vision. Goody’s lips have drawn back in a grimace as he bends over them, visibly straining to hold still through the shattering totality of Billy’s orgasm. But he’s got his eyes open, lantern-light casting amber into his blue-black stare, fixed unerringly on the shaking man between them. About as hypnotized as Red is by the sight, the sound, the _feel_ of Billy Rocks losing all control. 

“Fucking hell.” Red mouths it mostly to himself, but Goody manages a hoarse chuckle. 

”Think you just about summed it up, mon coeur.”

The come-down takes a bit longer than is usual for Billy, with Red stroking his hair and Goody stroking his back as he shivers through aftershocks. Red waits until the shaking’s mostly done and Billy’s drawing full breaths again before he loosens his legs and arms, letting Billy melt down onto him like the world’s most beautiful blanket, heavy and sloe-eyed with bliss.

“You all right there, darlin’?”

“Goody,” Billy slurs into Red’s chest. He’s so out of it, it’s kind of hilarious. “Come in me. Want you to.”

“Well, far be it from me to refuse an invitation gilded like _that,”_ Goody says, only a little breathless. “And Red?”

From this angle, Red can just about see the corner of Billy’s mouth tilt up in mischief. “You come inside me, then I’ll ride him ‘til he cries.”

Red thumps his head back on the mattress, his cock twitching from where it’s still trapped between their bellies. “Jesus _fucking_ Christ.”

“You sure know how to paint a hell of a picture, cher,” Goody laughs, then groans, and rolls his hips forward. It doesn’t take long, not after that kind of build-up. Billy softens and slips out of Red pretty quickly, but each thrust drags Billy’s stomach against Red’s cock, just enough teasing friction to keep his arousal humming. And it’s fucking sexy like this. Watching Goody reach for his orgasm, thighs flexing, eyes glazed, panting with how much he wants it. The blissed-out look on Billy’s face as he takes it, sprawled loose-limbed and sloppy all over Red the way he rarely ever allows himself to be.

Goody curls forward as he comes, eyes squeezed shut and forehead resting on Billy’s back, hands going white-knuckled on Billy’s hips as he moans out a soft litany of reverent profanity. He’s trembling when he winds to a stop, breathing in harsh gasps. For a long minute, there’s just the sound of their collective breathing. Insects and frogs singing outside. Wind-rustle through trees and brush. 

Then, “That one was for the entire Oklahoma state legislature,” Red says clearly into the silence. He smirks while Billy and Goody wheeze at the same time. Then Billy lifts his head up enough to smirk back.

“They’ll feel yours all the way over in Washington DC,” he rumbles, and Red licks his lips.

“They fucking better,” pointedly rolling his hips up to press his cock into Billy’s belly.

Billy lets his eyelids drop to half-mast at the feel of it - shorter than Goody’s but girthier, still very much rock-hard - and obligingly starts to lever himself up. “Allow me,” Goody rasps and snakes his arm around Billy’s chest to hold him still while he carefully pulls out. It’s fucking obscene, feeling Goody’s come slide down his legs while he can see Red’s inner thighs still glistening in streaks from his own come leaking out of Red’s hole. Billy whimpers a little as Goody uses his other hand to gather the dripping slick and push it back in, smearing it all around the rim.

“Lube?” Red asks.

“Reckon we should,” Goody says before Billy can demur. But he keeps his peace when Red reaches for the little tube, mellowed out on endorphins as he takes in the sight before him - Red’s eyes gone smoky and dark, legs spread wide and slicking his cock with hot intent, chest heaving, already looking fucked-out and wrecked before he’s even gotten to come.

Billy lets his head fall back onto Goody’s shoulder when he finally straddles Red and sinks down, a slow glide so good it almost makes him regret that he isn’t going to come again tonight. “God fucking _dammit,”_ falls out of his mouth without meaning to when Red bottoms out, and Goody breathes a laugh in his ear. 

“Quite a vision he presents, don’t he?” he says to Red. Then he tweaks both of Billy’s nipples, the bastard, making Billy tighten involuntarily and Red spit out a fervent groan.

“Shut your mouth and make yourself useful,” Billy hisses through his teeth.

“Yeah, what he said.”

“All right, all right, I see how it is around here,” Goody says, but he wraps his hands around Billy’s waist and helps him lift up on shaky thighs, fuck, it’s nearly as good going up as it is going down.

“Jesus— fuck—” Red’s clearly in a not much better state, back arching and abs visibly jumping as Billy squeezes on the next stroke, reveling in the stuffed-full feeling. 

“Don’t try to last,” he orders. “I want to watch you come.” He rolls his hips, grinding Red’s cock into his prostate, and can’t breathe for a long moment. Pleasure like thorns in his flesh, so near the tipping point of oversensitivity. He clenches his jaw and hangs on for another stroke. Another.

“C’mon, sweetheart. He wants to feel you fill him up. Wants to be dripping with us both when you’re done,” Goody coaxes from where he’s draped over Billy’s back, warm and steadying, once again speaking for Billy when he doesn’t have any words left in him. He reaches up with a trembling hand to grab the back of Goody’s neck, grateful beyond measure for the anchor as Red opens his mouth in a snarl, hips jumping up to meet Billy coming down, thrusting deep enough for Billy to see stars. They both groan.

“Yeah, put your hands on his hips, make him take it - yeah, perfect, give it to him like that,” Goody says while Billy bares his teeth and _rides_ Red for all he’s worth. Braced between Goody’s arm around his chest and Red’s hands on his hips, Red’s cock pounding into him and pulling deliciously on his rim, adrenaline and oxytocin surging fiercely - joyously - through his veins. 

“Fuck,” he manages to gasp out. His legs are starting to burn. “Fuck— Goody— _Red—”_

“Doing so good, chéri, both of you. You’re real close, ain’t you, Red? Can you feel how much we want you? How much we want you to come for us?” Goody’s voice, low and hoarse and filthy, blends seamlessly into the roaring in Red’s ears. Slick unyielding heat around his cock, balls drawing up, whole body shaking with the tension winding tighter and tighter in his belly. Deaf, blind, dumb to almost everything except the tide of pleasure rising faster than a spring flood within him. 

He throws his head back with a guttural groan, planting his heels and driving wildly into the fucking maddening clutch of Billy’s hole, finally made selfish with need. And yet he’s still caught by surprise when he comes - release and relief and ecstasy like lightning leaping out of him, fucking nailing him to the mattress. Billy drops his weight all the way down and clenches deliberately, _milking_ him, every squeeze setting off sparks in Red’s vision, _fuck_ that fucker. He’s moaning in low sobs - like a wounded animal, he thinks dimly, pinned helpless by the blaze in Billy’s eyes, the sleepy satisfaction in Goody’s.

It finally tapers off, leaving Red lying there gulping for air, heart thundering, about as limp as a wet noodle. If the noodle was still intermittently twitching in the aftermath of a mind-blowing orgasm.

“So was that for the president or for our venerable Supreme Court justices?” Goody asks, smiling with his chin hooked over Billy’s shoulder.

Red rouses enough to lift his head and look him dead in the eye. “That one was for the pope,” he says, flawlessly grave, and doesn’t crack even when Billy and Goody laugh themselves hoarse. 

Billy lifts himself up soon enough and collapses next to Red while Goody reaches for the wet wipes, still chuckling. They get cleaned up, spread an unzipped sleeping bag over the wet spots, and curl up to sleep the sleep of the deeply satisfied. Billy drapes himself over Goody as usual to hold him down during the night, and Red lies down a little ways from them, arm outstretched and fingers intertwined with Goody’s. 

With the lantern switched off the tent turns into a dark and cozy little hollow, made warm by three bodies that run hot. For once, Billy and Red drop off before Goody does. He lies on his back gazing up at the brilliance of the stars through the mesh skylight and listening to the crickets for a while - secure and loved, and loving in turn - and wonders how in the hell he got so damned lucky. 

Billy turns his head on Goody’s chest with a snuffle, silky hair tickling Goody’s chin. “Go to sleep,” he mumbles, soft and drowsy, stroking a hand down Goody’s arm. “You’re safe. We’re here.” 

Goody sighs. His throat aches with unshed tears, but Red’s hand tightens in silent agreement, and so he closes his eyes and does.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this little morning-after tag for [iwritesometimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritesometimes/pseuds/iwritesometimes).

Goody wakes to the smell of Paradise - namely, bacon and flapjacks and coffee - and the sound of Billy and Red’s voices outside, rising and falling in a comforting low rumble. Alone in the tent, he stretches out luxuriously, smiling foolishly at the burn in his thighs and ass and knees.

What a night. One to treasure in the vaults of remembrance for certain, precious as any Robicheaux heirloom.

It gets even better when he sticks his head out of the tent to find Billy in the middle of sucking syrup and grease off Red’s fingers. Neither of them look up, though they surely know he’s there.

It’s throat-catchingly lovely, the sight of Billy’s lashes gathered inky black against his skin, of Red pressing his teeth into his lower lip. Of Billy’s mouth pursed around two of Red’s fingers, all the way down to the knuckle, and the obscene gleam of saliva he leaves behind when he draws back slowly, all delicately torturous like he likes to do when he’s got those lips wrapped around Goody’s cock, and Goody can’t help the appreciative hum at the memory of how that feels.

“A deliciously good mornin’ to you, too,” he says when Red’s gaze flashes to him. The corners of Billy’s mouth twitch up, surely ruining his suction. He pulls off Red’s hand with a little, lingering curl of his tongue that does no favors for Goody’s composure - or Red’s, if his involuntary inhale is anything to go by.

“Breakfast has been served,” Billy says, justifiably smug. Doesn’t stop being smug even when both Goody and Red tackle him to the ground. They have to reheat said breakfast by the time they get around to actually eating it - but that’s all right. They got all weekend.


End file.
